


Nikandros of Akielos Has a Good Day

by Just_Another_Day



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Background Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince), Fluff, Gen, POV Nikandros (Captive Prince), Post-Canon, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 11:58:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18894178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_Another_Day/pseuds/Just_Another_Day
Summary: In which absolutely nothing happens, and Nikandros couldn't be happier.





	Nikandros of Akielos Has a Good Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SEABlRD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SEABlRD/gifts).



> So I ducked over to twitter for a hot second and happened to see Jai asking (jokingly, I assume, but meh) for a fic with this title. Surprise! Ask and ye shall receive, bud. Maybe it'll at least begin to make up for all the times I've tortured poor Nik. :D <3
> 
> (But don't expect me to be this nice to him again any time soon.)

Nikandros somehow managed to make it all the way to mid-afternoon before he finally identified this strange but still vaguely familiar feeling that had been tickling at the back of his mind for a few hours by that point.

It was _boredom_.

No wonder he didn't recognise it sooner. Honestly, when was the last time that Nikandros had been left to his own devices long enough to actually grow bored? He'd half-forgotten that was even a possibility. Certainly long enough ago that he couldn't even remember it.

But now it was snowing in Marlas for the first time in a decade, and as a result no one was going in or out of the palace just now. Most of the people inside didn't seem inclined to be particularly active either. Even the Kings hadn't even bothered to emerge from their rooms in this weather, probably for once preferring to bury themselves under a half dozen blankets in front of a roaring fireplace with the servants bringing them snacks rather than making a nuisance of themselves and ensuring that the frown lines between Nikandros's eyebrows grew ever more deeply-etched. If the snowfall kept up, Nikandros knew that it would doubtless only take another day or so before Laurent in particular would grow stir-crazy from being stuck inside the walls of the palace without even the option of going for a quick ride. And if Laurent wanted to wreak havoc, Damen (and at least half the palace, for that matter, since the servants all adored him) would enable him. Nikandros didn't look forward to that. 

But that was nothing more than a distant possibility at this stage. For now, things were unimaginably quiet in the palace, with no sign that change was coming in the immediate future.

Which left Nikandros at loose ends.

What did people even _do_ when they weren't trailing along behind their best friend and his poisonous pet viper, making sure the two of them didn't get in _too_ much trouble or manage to wreck the entirety of the kingdoms on a whim? 

Petitioners? Not likely. There _had_ been a grand total of two of them today, but Nikandros had already seen to them straight after breakfast that morning, and they'd only been there at all because they'd arrived the previous day before the weather shifted. There was no chance that anyone new was going to trudge through the snow this afternoon to join them.

Paperwork? But no, there was none of that to do. Nikandros was completely up to date on it. He knew better than to ever let that sort of thing even start to pile up. Five documents could quickly become a hundred times that many if Nikandros didn't continue to chip away consistently at them between his impromptu several-days-long mad dashes across whatever part of the countryside Damen and Laurent had stolen across this time, yet again having to make absolutely sure that their latest unannounced disappearance was only another one of their little 'adventures' and not a genuine kidnapping. It never had been the latter, but the time when Nikandros assumed they were fine would be the time when they were actually being burned at the stake a few hundred miles away, so Nikandros obviously couldn't take that chance (even if he didn't mind the idea of Laurent getting a little crispy around the edges).

What did that leave for Nikandros to do now, though?

Nikandros let his gaze slide to the shelf on the far wall. No. Surely not. He'd given up on getting to pull out one of those to enjoy. It had been years since he'd been naïve enough to think that he would ever have the time to use them as anything more than pure decoration.

But he had time now. He had _hours_ to himself, to do whatever he liked.

Nikandros reached for the book that was set two in from the left, his fingers hovering tentatively for a second, as if he were worried that the thing might vanish the moment he touched it. It was solid in his hand, though. Nikandros still remembered how excited he'd been to read this one in particular, once. That had been so long ago, but he felt that same feeling bubbling up inside him again now.

He had to blow a whole layer of dust off the top of the pages. He didn't even mind.

Nikandros brought the book back across the room with him. He thought about sitting in the desk chair where he sometimes did his work, on the rare occasion he ever had enough time to actually spend as much as half an hour at length in his rooms except to collapse in his bed to sleep. Nikandros could have looked up from the book sometimes to watch the drift of snowflakes flutter past the window from that seat if he liked. But instead, Nikandros veered to the left. He had an even better idea.

He kicked off his sandals (which admittedly hadn't exactly been doing much to keep his feet warm in this weather, but he wasn't about to start wearing Veretian boots, thanks). Then he slid between the sheets of his bed. The servants had added extra blankets last night when the temperature had dipped, so it wouldn't take long to warm. And the feeling of sinking into the soft mattress startled a sigh from him. Definitely a better choice than the chair, he decided.

Reading a book of poetry in bed in the middle of the day? It was too ridiculously opulent to be borne. And yet he wasn't going to let that stop him. Not today.

Nikandros half expected someone to interrupt him immediately as soon as he'd settled in, because he couldn't be this lucky. Not him. But no knock came at that point. Or at all, for hours. And when it finally did, it was only one of the servants asking whether Nikandros preferred to take his meal in his rooms, as she reported the Kings were doing the same and didn't require Nikandros's presence in the dining hall. 

A night where Nikandros for once didn't have to make small talk with courtiers he disliked and constantly keep darting glances around the room to make sure there were no signs of anything suspicious to indicate the Kings might be in danger of attack? A private meal instead? With a book in one hand, reading as he absent-mindedly picked at his food without worrying at all about bolting it down quickly because there was always the chance that Nikandros might be called away at any moment.

The servants, when they arrived with the array of food, even brought sweets. Nikandros _never_ got sweets usually. He blamed Laurent for that; he had to be behind it somehow. But not tonight, it seemed. Tonight, Nikandros got candied apricots. His favourite.

And he also got wine.

It wasn't unusual for wine to be provided to him, of course. Every night that he spent inside the palace walls, there was a goblet habitually placed in front of him just like there was now; apparently the servants had either never bothered to notice that Nikandros never actually drank alcohol, or they assumed that eventually he'd change his mind. He couldn't just do that normally, for Nikandros usually had to keep his mind as sharp and unimpaired as humanly possible, ready to spring into action the moment something inevitably went wrong. But maybe, just this once…

It felt like tempting fate to bring the metal to his lips. Nikandros did it anyway. 

Nikandros savoured the taste of it as it slid over his tongue and smoothly down his throat. If Laurent asked, Nikandros would of course call the drink thoroughly overrated. But although Nikandros might not love Veretians (understatement), even after years of having to deal with them mixing their way into what he still considered Akielon land, even he had to privately acknowledge that they certainly did know how to make exceptional wine.

Maybe later Nikandros would even have the servants refill the cup and he could sip at it while luxuriating in the baths, like a true lord of leisure.

If Nikandros was going to get almost an entire day, and the evening as well, to do whatever he liked for once, he might as well make the absolute most of it, he decided.

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly, I love that Nikandros's idea of 'making the most of it' is just doing jack all for the whole day and night. :') You and me both, hun. Though you know, Nikandros could probably have a lot more of these chill days if he would just delegate every now and then. Too bad he's paranoid as fuck and doesn't trust anyone but himself to see to Damen's well-being. So he's just going to have to settle for one or two of these days every decade or so, I guess. XD


End file.
